


cut my lip

by jayquxck



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Boyfriends, Jamison Fawkes - Freeform, Junkrat - Freeform, M/M, Overwatch - Freeform, Roadhog - Freeform, Wholesome, Whump, gore (mentioned), it's cute i promise, it's mild don't panic, junkrat takes care of roadhog it's cute, mako rutledge - Freeform, roadrat - Freeform, this was tagged poorly i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28687362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayquxck/pseuds/jayquxck
Summary: well, junkrat and roadhog weren't as above the law as they thought. they were caught by blackwatch, and mako got cut up pretty bad. he's lucky jamison cares so much.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes & Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	cut my lip

**Author's Note:**

> HI!!! just a few quick notes!  
> \- this is blackwatch era. i know the this might be incorrect because i didn't feel like checking the timeline, but essentially jamie and mako were caught by blackwatch after a big ass heist. just roll with it, timelines are stupid  
> \- in this, i headcanon that mako cut off jamison's leg after it got infected due to untreated cuts or whatever so that's implied. once again, please roll with it, just headcanon time B)  
> \- this has only gone through minor editing, so if you see any mistakes PLEASE let me know so i can fix them!! 
> 
> and that's all!! enjoy the fic <3

“They got ya good back there, didn’t they, mate?” 

Mako glances up from his spot on the bed, not in the mood to talk at all. His face felt like someone had scraped his skin off with a cheese grater, and the pain would subside once he sat still for long enough but as soon as he moved his head once again the pain would crash over in waves of stinging heat and he’d be right back where he started. It looked like someone tried to cut his head in half; one of those Blackwatch soldiers had a sword with him and landed a few swings on Roadhog before the two of them had a chance to escape. Still, he prided himself on the fact that he was still alive. Taking a sword to the face is not everyone’s cup of tea. “I’m fine,” he says, quietly, “you got it worse.” 

The two of them were back in their makeshift hideout, for the time being, an old apartment on the outskirts of the town they’d planned to rob. The one-room apartment they were living in was filthy and covered in bags of money and gold, but it was liveable. Jamison put himself on close watch to make sure Mako’s cut stays clean; he of all people knew that infected cuts are the worst thing that can happen to a man, especially to his face, and so he tried to convince Mako to keep the bandages on and clean. 

Mako, however, couldn’t do much of anything without a healthy dose of hogdrogen to get him through his day to day life. His mask provided him with such, and even if his face wasn’t really healing, it felt like it was, and that was all that mattered to him. So the bandages came off, and the mask came on. 

Jamison glances down at his stub of a leg, wrapped tightly and cleanly in bandages, and pauses thoughtfully. “I’ll be alright,” he waves it off feebly, “can always replace my limbs. But you--” he stares Mako down with a kooky smile, sort of excited, despite the situation, “--can’t replace yer face very easy, can ya?” 

Unable to combat that strangely well thought out response, Mako sighs. He looks to the table, massive hand gently curling to hold a small potted cactus that had been there since they’d moved in. Affectionately named Missy, Mako took it with him everywhere to remind himself that not everywhere was a desert wasteland and that one day he’d be able to make a garden of his own. He sets it into his lap, glancing down to sulk once more. 

Junkrat, however, continues to persist. Even though just days ago, Mako had been standing above Jamison with a blood-dripping meat cleaver in one hand and Jamison’s leg flopped over like a dead bouquet of flowers in the other, he seemed eager to help out. 

Jamie hops from his chair, expertly dragging it behind him as he hops on one foot to his counterpart. He pulls the chair beneath him and sits in front of Mako, just between his knees, craning his neck all the way back to look at his face. “Alright then, up ye come. Let’s get a look at the damage, shall we?” he waves his hand in a circular motion to urge Mako to get on with it. After a few moments of hesitation, Mako’s giant hand reaches behind his head and he unclips his mask, letting it fall into his free hand. He shivers at the feeling of the cold air hitting his open wounds, and his eyes scrunch shut painfully. 

Jamison, however, has never looked more calm in his entire life. His eyes scan Mako’s face carefully, no longer bright and excited but glazed over and nervous. “Oi, mate. He really got ya, huh…” his long fingers trace the cut, careful not to actually touch it. “No worries. I’ll clean ya up, then.” 

Nothing was still bleeding, but the cut and the area beneath it was crimson with dried blood. Junkrat stands once more, hopping on one foot to the table, where there lay a small first aid kit. “Alright mate, this may sting a bit.” he sat, setting the first aid kit into his lap. He reached up, caressing the side of Mako’s jaw, trying to get him to tilt his head downward, so Jamison could see. 

Mako, who’s dealt with enough pain in his lifetime, nods understandingly. The room smells like rubbing alcohol, more pungent than ever as Junkrat turned back to him with a rag soaking wet with the stuff. “Shut yer eyes, Roadie, this’ll be over before you know it.” he leans forward, and before any moment of protest, the corner of the rag was dragged right over the large cut in his face. It burned a lot more than he’d expected it to. His pain tolerance was high, but this was… something. It felt like someone had taken their fingernail and dragged it right through the open wound, but the pain didn’t subside like it usually did afterward. The pain burned like hellfire and Mako flinched harshly. The strong scent made his eyes water and forced a cough out of him. His lungs could never be strong enough to handle a smell like that one. 

An eternity later, the cloth was pulled away and Mako could finally breathe again “There we are!” fresh air filled his lungs for no more than half a second until the mask was shoved back onto his face and he gasped in the metallic scent of the hogdrogen. The pain subsided, but it didn’t disappear. It just floated far away. “Breathe, mate…” he sounds so distant, and yet Mako can clearly make out the memory of saying those exact words to Jamison right after he’d cut off his leg. 

Everything was foggy until the mask came off again and he was sent hurtling straight back to reality, pain and all. “Clean as a whistle,” he says, and leaning up to press a sloppy kiss to Mako’s cheek with a giggle, “you look sharp, Hoggy me Hog. The cut makes ya look badass. When that bugger heals, nobody will ever want to mess with you again. You’re the man who took a sword to the face!” 

Mako doesn’t say anything, stuck in his own little world as he came down from his high. The mask was set securely on the floor by Jamison’s foot, but he didn’t have the energy to ask for it back. Life was slow again. Jamison took this offbeat to move beloved cactus and replace it with himself, curling himself up in Mako’s lap lazily. As his head set onto his chest, almost instinctively, Mako rested his massive hand on top of Jamie’s head lovingly, fingers tangling into his thin blonde hair. “I ain’t mad at you for cuttin’ off my leg,” he promises, nuzzling to him like a cat, “it had to be done. I was just angry ‘cause I was scared. It hurt.” A pang of guilt rings through Mako’s chest, but Jamie continues. “But I couldn’t have gone to a hospital, and if it had gotten worse…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I ain’t mad,” he finishes and kisses Mako’s chest gently. 

The silence that filled the room past that point was comfortable. Mako still felt guilty, and he wished there was something else he could’ve done. “Don’t worry about it mate,” Jamie says softly as if he could read Mako’s mind. “I’ll figure it out. You just worry about keepin’ that cut clean, alright?” 

“Sure.” Mako dazedly rubs Jamie’s head with his palm, smoldering out the fire in his hair with his massive hand. “Anything you say.”


End file.
